Don't You Tread on Me
by spotlock
Summary: Kyle is forced into summer camp, and bunked with the person he least wanted to see. The tension rises to breaking point, while rumours spread like wildfire. Kyle has to wonder, is Cartman hiding something? Slash, kyman. Please R&R!
1. Fuck You Very Much

Don't Tread on Me

Forced into camp, Kyle is bunked with the person he least expected. The tension rises to breaking point, but Kyle has a hard time deciding whether it's for better or worse. Kyman.

If I owned South Park, it would be completely gay with drama and sex.

**Don't You Tread On Me**

**Chapter One: Fuck You Very Much**

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I really hate the tenth grade.

It's the year you feel lost, like your just floating around in the hallways contemplating who you really are.

I have felt like this, since half way through the year. My relationships with people has toppled just a bit, but my performance has gone downhill. Way downhill.

I'm not sure why, I just don't care as much as I used to in elementary and middle school. I think that maybe I just don't want to listen to my Mom's ranting anymore. I always feel like a caged Jew, my mother occasionally whipping against the bars and yelling at me for this and that. Recently, I've been getting trampled with my teachers and their questions of concern, asking me if everything at home is alright. I always answer with the same thing.

"Yes, it's fine, just some family problems I have to deal with." And they believe me every time because they know I am an A student. Everyone gets distracted now and then right? I use that to my advantage.

It's the last day of school, and English CP 10 is the last class of the day, thank Moses. I have been looking forward to this class all day, mainly because it's the last, but also because my super best friend Stan is in here, along with Kenny, who has always looked out for us. And then there's the fatass, Cartman. Cartman isn't really my friend but he's part of our group, and always has been. I'd much rather not have him around, but when he's with us, it feels like the old times, when all four of us were always hanging out and going on our crazy adventures. I always look back to those days because we were so careless and free compared to now. All I can say I feel in the present, is stress and constant worry as I grow older, my mother not getting any less aggravating, and preparing for adult hood not getting any less vital. I told this to Stan once, and he agreed with me, but he tries to ignore it. I don't see how that's even possible…

I envy my friends a lot. They appear to be happy in their day to day carefree lives, while I feel as if I have the weight of five elephants bearing down on my frail shoulders. I mean, I know they have troubles too, I'm not stupid. But they are certainly more unrestricted than I am at home. My mother is always shouting at me, lectures of how I need to grow up to be a successful man or I will end up poor and on the streets. She shoves more and more commands down my throat, expecting me to fulfill all of them in record timing. Don't get me wrong though, I still have fun when I can. It's just so hard to when I have all of these odds and ends still on my mind.

I feel a finger tap on my shoulder, and hesitantly turn my head. Stan sits right behind me to my right, looking quite bored.

"Dude, are you okay? You look like you didn't get any sleep last night." He gives me a worried look.

I don't really notice that I'm dozing off. I'm bored as hell, and I just want to leave. Blinking to rid the remaining drowziness oozing from my eyes, I straighten my green trapper that's falling from the side of my head. "Yeah, yeah. I just had trouble sleeping."

He smiles, showing off his perfectly white teeth. "Excited for summer?" Kenny turns around in his creaking chair to face us from a row over, his hood swallowing up a good portion of his face.

I smile back, fully awakened and turn to face him. "Hell yeah, dude. We are still going to your house after school, right?" Me, Stan, Cartman and Kenny decided to hang out at Stan's for a little Xbox to celebrate the ending of the school year. I gladly accepted the offer, since I have not hung out with my friends for a few weeks now. Seriously, it's long overdue. I am disappointed however, that Cartman has to join us. The whole time I'm there, I know he'll be bashing my religion and making fun of my ginger Jew fro, and New Jersey origin. I've decided I'll just try my best to ignore it and talk to Stan and Kenny.

I know that idea's going to fail miserably.

Stan nods at my question, then quickly picks up his pencil and ducks his head. Sensing we've been caught, I turn my face toward the chalkboard to find Mr. Garrison glaring at the trio that famously interupts class nearly every week.

My mouth opens slowly. "Uh… sorry Mr. Garrison."

"You better be Mr. Broflovski, turn your head around and pay attention!" My face is now slightly flushed as I turn toward the board, feeling a couple pairs of eyes stare down on me. I'm kind of used to it, but I still get embarrassed.

Mr. Garrison sighs loudly. "Now, kids, I know it's the last day of school but I just need your attention for a little longer. You might need to know this stuff for next year."

While Mr. Garrison blabbering on, I try to focus on what he's saying, but have a hard time getting the key points he wants us to write down. My eyelids are heavy with weariness and my vision's a little fuzzy. I've only written down a few words on the half sheet of grid line paper that's gawking at me from the desk. Oh well, I'll learn this next year. Students shouldn't be forced to do any kind of work the day before summer break.

Suddenly, an object so light that I can barely even register it's there, thumps me on my head, and bounces lightly onto my desk. Dragging the only support of my head from my chin wearily, I pick up the little wad of paper, unfolding the crinkles. Someone around me has scribbled down the word 'FAG' in large writing, and thrown it at me.

My eyebrows scrunch together in mock confusion. What the hell? A chill runs up my spine for a moment of pure confusion. In a matter of seconds, it hits me. When I realize who's responsible, I just roll my eyes. I've had enough of this bullshit already.

Chuckling to the left of me, Cartman sends me an evil smirk, ripping the corner off his paper. Not comprehending what he's planning, I turn my body slightly to chew him out just in time to be smacked in the face with another paper football.

''Quit it fatass!" I swipe the paper off my desk, and toss his paper insult that he wrote on back at him. It hits the front of his shirt lamely, and he starts to chuckle again, his brown eyes looking quite amused by my reaction.

"Nice aim, Kahhhl. I guess Jews don't have much strength either. Or maybe that's just you." My face begins to feel hot from rage and embarrassment, but I don't show defeat and flip him off to display to him that he hasn't won this immature game.

"Look who's talking. With all that flab on your fatass, I bet your ninety-eight percent lard and two percent muscle. Go hit the treadmill for once." A few people were starting to laugh quietly, but his face shows no sign of defeat or humiliation. Instead, he mocks my move and proudly raises his middle finger up at me.

"Screw you, Jew. You're so weak and scrawny you could pass as being a girl. Get that sand out of your vagina and go fuck a guy." He smirks fake innocense, eyes twinkling with mischief. Knowing he's pissing me off is giving him a real kick out of this.

I clench my fists together in anger, my blood boiling in my veins. I really wish I could just slap this stupid asshole's smirk right off his stupid chubby face and send him home crying, like I did before when we were younger.

But the teacher is already done with me for today. I decide to be the better person. I let the pent up frustration out of my lungs and slowly turn back around toward the front of the classroom. Both my hands form fists and I silently grit my teeth.

Cartman has won his stupid little game, again. Yet I didn't even agree to cooperate or participate. I think I can hear Stan shouting quietly at Cartman, probably telling him to quit being a prick, as the lesson is wrapped up ahead.

_Okay, just a few more minutes of school… then you are free for the next three months._ I stare forward at nothing in particular, as I impatiently tap my foot repeatedly on the ground. My hand once again finds the underside of my chin. This seems to have become a habit of mine when I'm in any sort of classroom setting.

The bell suddenly screams loudly throughout the school, startling everyone. It's the end of the day. Cheers of joy and delight rip through the air of boredom and anxiety, outside in the hallways and in my classroom. I let out a sigh of relief as I reach down and grab my backpack, and stand from my seat to sling it over my shoulders, grabbing hold of the straps like some kind of shield.

I search for Stan through the buzzing crowd pouring out the door, and spot him being tugged along by Wendy's arm, Kenny following right behind Stan. I roll my eyes. I really wish Wendy would quit latching onto Stan so much. Every opportunity she gets, she'll grab Stan with her pink claws, hypnotizing him with her hungry red eyes. She's like a parasite, and Stan is the host. I guess that's what happens when you're in love.

Since Kenny has gone along with Stan, I start to walk forlornly by myself out of the classroom. When I'm about five feet away from the exit, somebody's hands push me sideways hard, and I struggle to balance myself and not fall over onto the filthy floor. I turn around quickly and meet my tormenter, a chubby moron who's laughing his ass off with his hand holding his stomach, like it's the funniest thing in the world.

"What the hell fatass! I told you to fuck off!" I try to punch him in the arm, but he catches my fist in his large hand and smacks it away expertly. Straightening up, he drops his grin to a smirk, looking at me more seriously. His ill-behaved eyes roam over my pissed off, drained of life face.

"Oh Kahl, you're so dramatic. I thought you were used to me by now. I mean, honestly. You've known me for how long now?"

"Kyle Broflovski, can you come here please?" The teacher hollers behind his desk before I can retort back.

I give him the heaviest glare, hoping he recieves the message, and turn my back to him.

Ugh, what did I do? Cartman should be the one getting in trouble. He pushed me!

I don't vocalize my thoughts, and meet Mr. Garrison at his desk. He gives me a strange look.

I hear the door close shut behind me, confirming Cartman doesn't care enough to stay.

"Kyle, can you tell me just why in the hell you didn't turn in your work?" Wait, what? Caught off guard, my mouth falls open slightly. Why hadn't I turned my work in? Oh, right. I didn't want to listen this time, and it was sort of a retort against my mother. I just couldn't finish all my work with her constantly giving me other stuff to do. But I can't say that…

"Well, sorry Mr. Garrison, it's just I was so caught up in my final exam studies and so many other projects, as well as several things at home, I couldn't get it done in time." I stare pleadingly into his eyes, hoping my lame excuse will work. He breaks contact, looking down into his lap.

"Kyle, you failed English. Failed. You've hardly turned in your homework and you flunked the last test. I know for sure your mother or father won't be happy with this, it's just unacceptable and now you have to repeat the whole damn class next year."

My face freezes still. Did I just hear him correctly?

Failed? I failed? Kyle Broflovski, the teacher's pet, the straight A student, the overworking Jewish kid, failed English class? I'm so shocked, I can't even find any words to say.

"But Kyle, since I know you are much better than this, and because we all know your mother will probably raise hell on us, me and the other teachers have worked out something for you. It's optional, but I recommend you do it anyway." I nod, seeing no other options.

"It's a summer program. It's not like a regular class where you sit down and we teach you, it's more like a camp. It gives you extra credit, and with it you could get at least a C for English and bring some of your other grades up." He grabs a paper from one of the giant piles on the desk, and holds it out for me to take. Still really shocked, I grab it from him weakly.

I read the top_: South Park's Extra Credit Program, where students can receive extra credit for any courses; for Middle and High School students._

My heart starts pounding against my chest when it registers in my brain.

For fear of what my mom's reaction will be to all of this, to the fear of losing my whole entire summer to this stupid activity, and the strange, unknown camp that this paper describes in my hand, I shake my head in denial.

I'm silent for while I stare lifelessly at the pink flyer in my hands, reading over the same thing again and again. Photographs of happy, smiling children along the bottom seem to be looking at me and laughing, mocking me in my silence.

"Alright, well, I gotta go Kyle. I have an appointment to check my prostate at 4:00 and I can't be late. Don't want my ass to develop any cancer." I would wrinkle my nose up in disgust if it weren't for this thing in my hands. Mr. Garrison grabs his coat and bags, taking some stuff out of the desk's drawers and heads toward the exit.

"Well, have a nice summer, Kyle, I'll see you next year and good luck." He says as he switches the lights off, not even bothering to close or lock the door.

It finally registers that everyone is gone and I'm alone. I look up, fear etched on my features.

Shit. Shit. Shit shit.

My fingers fold the paper in half and I stare up at the cieling, asking nobody why I have to be punished this way, not feeling prepared for the nightmares that are probably waiting for me.

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_Hey, my readers. I understand that the first chapter is everything and, well, if it isn't good, nobody wants to read the rest of the story. I'm hoping I didn't screw it up completely. Please leave a review and give me some feedback. The rating to this story may change. Until Next time!_

_spotlock_


	2. Too Young to Live a Lie

Don't you Tread on Me

Summary: Forced into summer camp, Kyle is bunked with the person he least wanted to see. The tension rises to breaking point, while rumors spread like wild fire. Kyle has to wonder, is Cartman hiding something?

I DON'T OWN South Park.

**Too Young to Live a Lie**

"Hate is like a poison, eating away at yourself with the more you have."

-unknown

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Something finally slaps me awake from my loathing. I look at the clock. It's been several minutes since the bell rang. I've been standing alone in the middle of the room in pure shock at these turn of events. I finally start moving my feet and walk out the door, shutting it gently behind me.

I wonder if Stan is still here somewhere. I need to get all the stuff from my locker before I can head home, though. I'll probably have to call my mom to pick me up. I walk down the deserted hallways, my footsteps echoing loudly. I turn around the corner. Stan and Kenny are standing by my locker waiting for me.

They wave warmly, and I meet them. "Oh…hey dudes." I attempt to smile while I hide the brochure between my armpit.

"Hey…ready to go?" Stan says. I just continue with spinning in my combination. What do I normally say when I'm in a good mood? I'm terrible at hiding my emotions from people. When I am upset, people seem to notice right away.

"…You okay, Kyle? You look kind of upset." I bite my lip. See?

I stare at the floor for a moment, hugging the brochure to my chest. "Whats that?" Kenny points curiously at the pink paper I tried to hide.

Keeping my eyes to the floor, because it's so very interesting, I finally bring forth my voice that's been hiding in the back of my throat.

I look up at him, and take a deep breath."You guys, I need to tell you something."

Stan tilts his head confusedly. "Okay."

"I, failed.."

"Failed what?" Kenny tucked his blonde hair behind his ear.

Anger is sparkling in my eyes."I failed English…and now I have to go to a summer camp."

Looking up at my best friend, he and Kenny stay quiet for a moment.

"Haha…yeah, okay Kyle. Nice try, but we've got to get going-"

"I'm _serious_!" My arms flail out in the air, a spark of frustration in my tone. I look Stan straight in the eyes. "I fucking flunked English class! I… I can't believe it. Do you know what my mom's gonna do to me?!" I cross my arms over my chest and bite my lip, attempting to calm my raging heart. "I have to go to freaking camp for the summer Stan.. I won't be able to hang out with you guys at all! I won't be able to do _anything_."

Stan is eyeing me, disbelief scowling his features. This isn't going to well.

"WHAT? Are you serious!" I nod my head, remaining quiet.

"But, dude. I don't get it. How the hell did you _flunk_ English? You're Kyle! You get perfect grades…"

Oh my god. "Shut up, Stan." Pissed off at Stan but more at myself, I just shake my head. I turn and quickly spin in the rest of my locker combination and busy myself with cleaning out some of the papers that weren't taken out of my locker.

"Dude, where the hell is Cartman?" Kenny asks. Good point... I'm glad he's not here, he would be poking a lot of fun at me for this.

I pull a wrinkled ball of paper from the corner of the locker. Science quiz, an A minus with five missed.

Math test. An 89 percentage. When the hell did I stop caring so much? I threw the rest of the papers in my bag, not bothering to look at the rest of them and slam my locker shut.

Ever since mom started to really, really pressure me. That's when.

"Well, I'm sure it's not all summer long, right?" I hear a few teachers walk by us, laughing together about a lame joke while walking to their cars. I can't remember how long the camp was supposed to be, so I opened the brochure, searching. Stan and Kenny lean over my shoulders and look with me.

Scanning through all the paragraphs and bullet points, I feel knots forming in my stomach_. 'The summer program is seven weeks, full of fun activities and learning for every student!'_

My eyes widened. "What?" My stomach drops to the floor.

Stan tilts his head back at the Gods, as if this is all their fault. "Seven weeks? Oh, god damn it!"

Kenny sighs, putting a hand on both of our shoulders. "Look dudes, let's just get out of here. We'll talk this out at your house, Stan."

I shake my head at the ground in anger. "Yeah… alright." I begin to walk with them toward the exit.

"Thanks for waiting for me guys, by the way."

"No problem, dude." Stan smiles at me, and I grin back. I vaguely wonder where Cartman has taken off, but dismiss it quickly. Probably got tired of waiting for us and went to stuff his fat face at KFC, or something.

I climb into the back seat of Stan's car and throw my backpack in the front seat, Kenny taking the spot next to me. We sit here for a few minutes, and I', growing impatient. What the hell is he doing up there? I want to leave this freaking place. I gaze up to the front seat to see Stan staring at a group of girls ahead in the parking lot, all chatting outside next to a van. When he should be driving home. Wendy was there, laughing ridiculously at something with Bebe.

"Shit dude, I can't wait to screw some chicks this summer." Kenny says to himself, practically drooling. Stan has that look on his face whenever Wendy is around. I know I should be happy for them, but I actually find it really annoying. I can't help it, she's always with him anymore. Sometimes when we're hanging out, she'll call and tell him to come over, and he leaves without the slightest hesitation.

I roll my eyes, disgusted with them both.

"Dude, are we gonna go or what?"

Kenny chuckles in the seat beside me. "Oh, Kyle…you know, you don't seem to care much about relationships, let alone girls. You hiding something from us?" Kenny smirks, shaking his hair back and forth while Stan _finally_ starts up the car.

I roll my eyes. "No Kenny, I really don't. I don't have time for relationships and all that stupid shit."

"Yeah… right." Kenny said, giving me a look, then turns his attention to his phone. He flips it open, probably texting with some slut. Knowing Kenny, he hooks up with all the loose women around town. No doubt he's texting a girl.

I look out my window, bored. I stare at the streets with frothy melting snow.

Mom is going to fucking kill me. She kept telling me to raise my grades. She's already grounded me like seven or eight times the past couple months.

The weird thing is, I really didn't want to listen to her, and now I feel pretty guilty. Damn it, why do I always have to feel guilty about everything? Stupid concience.

I'll probably get my phone or computer taken away this time. And they'll ban me from tv for the rest of my life.

No, definitely worse. This is my mom we're talking about. She'll probably home school me next year, and restrict me from having any fun with my friends. Then pile more books and shit in my room…and expect me to read all of them. Like I'll do that for her.

Before we pull completely out of the parking lot, a flash of red outside my window catches my eye. Then, I hear someone yelling pretty loudly.

I look around, and find the source, noticing what looks like a teacher and a student arguing at the school's entrance. I recognize Mr. Garrison right away, looking like he's pretty frustrated. The student's back is turned though, so I can't see his face. But a familiar red jacket and yellow backpack gives me enough clues to who he is, and my brain clicks into motion.

Cartman?

Why is Mr. Garrison yelling at him? And why is he yelling at Mr. Garrison?

Oh, I get it. He was probably wrecking school property or something. Knowing him, he probably planned out this day. He probably stayed up all night and created a whole scheme just to piss the teacher's and other people off. Maybe he threw eggs at one of the staff, or tried to teepee the school. Or spray painted the windows. He's such a stupid asshole.

Seriously, when will he learn not to vandalize other people's property?

Both Kenny and Stan are completely unaware of Cartman getting yelled at near the front doors, but I don't really care enough to tell them. I think those girls at the van are still plaguing their minds anyway.

I hear Cartman cuss the teacher out, and they both finally cease their argument.

Mr. Garrison gets in his car and flies off to the school's back exit. Cartman turns and walks in the opposite direction, toward his car somewhere in the lot. Wow, he looks so pissed off.

Something is in his hand that I didn't notice before. A small piece of paper.

Hm. That looks like the one Mr. Garrison gave me a while ago, for the summer program. The pink brochure.

He climbs into his old, slightly rusted car, the tinted windows masking his face.

But I have a pink brochure too.

My jaw drops at this, and I quickly look to the retched paper that's still in my hand.

No. No, no no no. I'm just imagining things.

Before I can think anymore, Stan speeds out of the school grounds and into the traffic.

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Hey, kyman freaks. I just want to thank all that have reviewed so far. They really give me motivation. So, please, leave a review of what you think, I want to know how this is going. Anonymous reviews are always welcome too. :D

Thanks a lot~! -spotlock


	3. Breathe the Pressure

Don't You Tread on Me

Summary: Forced into summer camp, Kyle is bunked with the person he least wanted to see. The tension rises to breaking point, while rumors spread like wildfire. Kyle has to wonder, is Cartman hiding something?

South Park is owned by the geniuses known as Matt and Trey. They are not human.

**Breathe the Pressure**

"Here's my heart and soul. Please grind them into hamburger, and enjoy."

-unknown

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As soon as we arrive at Stan's house, I grab my backpack from the front seat of his car, and head up the sidewalk. There are still small clumps of snow on the ground, slowly melting under the increased heat. Kenny follows behind me. I can hear the smalls clicks of his fingers as he texts away on his phone.

Stan's house still looks the same as it always has, pretty much. There are a few colorful flowers his mother has planted around the front of the house and along the sidewalk, making it more inviting.

I'm relieved that Cartman's not here. I'm not really fond of being picked on by the fat Nazi. He always likes to comment on how girly I look when I walk. But just because I'm thin does not mean I look like a girl. He's probably just jealous he's so fat.

I remember seeing him getting yelled at by our teacher in front of the school.

I'm pretty sure he had the same brochure as I do in his hand. The one Mr. Garrison gave me, and I nearly hyperventilated over. That fucking scares me. It's like he also was invited, or forced to go. But I could be mistaken. Hopefully, I was just being paranoid. Anyway, he probably threw it out his car window when he was leaving like a piece of trash, even if it really was the brochure.

I don't even bother to ring the doorbell or knock, since I'm always here. I can be mistaken as Stan's brother if I wanted to. Twisting the door knob open, I'm greeted to the wonderful smell of something chocolaty. It reminds me of the fragrant, welcoming home I always _didn't_ have.

"Hey, mom. What are you making?" Stan takes a whiff and throws his shoes on the floor, along with his backpack. I stand and watch his mother curiously.

She's dressed in her work clothes, and looks up to smile at us. She sets some kind of dessert out on the counter, probably to celebrate the end of the school year. Everything seems so cheery and perfect. My mom would never in a million years do that for me.

"Good afternoon, Stanley, Kenny, Kyle…isn't there one more?" She looks puzzled as she tries to remember. Kenny rolls his eyes, laughing.

"Uh, yeah, Cartman. He took off somewhere." Stan said nonchalantly. Grabbing a cookie, he shoves it in his mouth and takes a seat at the table. Kenny follows suit behind me, grabbing a bit too many to be considered polite.

"Kyle, you want one?" Stan asks with his mouth full.

"No, that's okay. I'm not hungry." Jeez, I'm a diabetic, remember Stan? I stand in the family room, sliding off my backpack. I reach down to untie my sneakers and pull them off, setting them neatly on the carpet floor. I look around the family room for his xbox, but can't find it anywhere. "Dude, where's your Xbox at?"

"Oh, it's in my room. You can go get it if you want." Stan says with his mouth full, facing the opposite direction. So much for getting any help.

I sigh and make my way to his room, walking up the carpeted steps. His door is wide open at the end of the hallway, so I make my way inside. It looks as if his room has never changed the entire time I've started coming here. Which was when I was about two or three years old. Well, except the few mounds of clothes scattered on the floor.

I walk to his bed. The grand gaming experience, the most prized possession of all, sits on his bed with a shirt strung across it. I throw the t-shirt aside and hug the Xbox to my chest to make sure I won't drop it.

Stan and Kenny both sit on the couch, their stomachs probably full of chocolate cookies. Yet Kenny's inhaling a bag of chips and Stan is scooping cereal with his hand right out of the box. It's a mystery how they stay so skinny.

"Set it right there, dude." Stan points at the tv stand against the wall and I hook it up to the television. While I'm busy getting controllers from the cabinets, Kenny starts talking about girls again, yet his voice is muffled due to his hood covering his entire face.

After another five or so minutes of setup, I plop myself down on the couch next to Stan. After we start the game up, me and Stan get extremely absorbed in a game of shooting aliens and monsters or some shit. I don't know what it's called, but it sure is intense.

Suddenly, the phone rings loudly, startling me. Stan makes no move to get it himself.

"Stan, could you get that please? I'm putting make-up on!" His mom shouts from upstairs.

He sighs and pauses the game, throwing his controller down lazily. He picks the phone up from the white holder, looking aggravated that someone had to interupt his game.

"Hello? Yes… okay, when? Yeah, okay whatever. Mhm, later." He makes his way back to the couch, unpausing the game.

"Who was that?" I ask, shooting an alien in the face, blood spattering everywhere.

"It was just Cartman. He said he's coming over." Stan mumbles, rolling his eyes. I grunt in frustration. Great. I thought he'd blown us off for a night of a total pig-out session with chicken wings.

"Yeah, like he can just invite himself over. Why didn't you say no?"

"Well, dude, I did say he could come over yesterday." He says, hitting a button repeatedly.

"Yeah, well… still." My shoulders slump in defeat. Great… just knowing he's coming has already put me in a bad mood. I give the controller to Kenny, who is sitting quietly next to me.

I make my way to the kitchen, sitting at the counter stool, and rest my head on my arm.

I decide I'm hungry for some junk food. I get up from the stool and raid through Stan's cabinet, grabbing everything that looks appealing to my cravings. I snatch some Lay's chips and a few other things, and stuff them into my mouth.

I haven't told anyone I'm staying here tonight. I'll probably be getting a worried phone call from my mom soon. Or maybe Ike will text me asking where I am.

I stick some more chips and god knows what else in my mouth, crunching and swallowing. The unpleasant reminder of going to camp in a few days creeps back into my mind, and I groan out loud in protest. I still haven't told my mom or dad… maybe I should just leave and get it out of the way, or else the school will beat me to it with a phone call or something. I don't want that…I won't be there to explain myself, and she totally flip out when she knows. She'll probably drive over here and pull me out to the car by my ear.

No, she will probably beat me in the head with a baseball bat, and then lock me into my own room, only letting me out for meals. I can already see her angry, disappointed face.

I'm so sick of feeling like this. My eyes start to flood with tears and my vision gets blurry. I try to distract myself by shoving more junk food in my mouth. Tossing the bags aside, I angrily wipe my eyes with my arm, and make my way back to the family room to break the news.

"Guys, I need to go. Now." Seriously, I need to get home and tell my mom, as scared as I am. I don't deserve to just be sitting around having fun. I don't deserve to be with my friends.

"What? What do you mean? You just got here, Kyle." Stan looks to me, confused.

"Stan, I haven't told my mom _anything_ yet. Do you know what she'll do to me when she finds out? She'll be mad at me for being over here instead of going straight home. It's better if I just go. Hell, it wouldn't surprise me if she got mad at you too." I start to gather my things by the door, but Stan grabs my arm with his hand. I halt my movements, and look up raising my brow.

"What are you doing, Stan? I've got to leave now."

"Kyle..."

Stan shakes his head at me.

"Kyle, you don't need to leave so early, just stay. Listen, I know your mom's really strict and stuff but what's the worst she could do? Ground you? You're already going away to camp the entire summer. She can't ground you or really take anything away for more than three days." He stares at me for a moment longer, and then walks back to the couch. He pats the spot next to him and smiles.

Shit. I haven't even read when it starts, yet he knew somehow. The anger, stress and anxiety I felt moments ago seems to wash away, and I realize, that maybe he's right. I really am so thankful for my super best friend, as gay as that sounds. But I don't care. He really calms me down when I need it.

I smile at him, "Alright." I accept his offer and take the seat next to him.

"Yeah, I guess it couldn't hurt to just ignore her for the night." I smirk at the thought.

"Haha, yeah! Kyle being a rebel!" Kenny announces from underneath his hood, pumping a fist in the air.

"Haha, I guess so." I shake my head, relaxing into the cushion. I can't help to smile at my crazy friend.

I won't put up with the bullshit this time. If she wants to ground me, then fine. I can't be grounded for very long.

I kinda feel at ease, finally. Now that I think about it, I can finally be away from my mom the whole break. I won't have to read those law books she piles on my desk, or do community volunteering. No more of her shit, for the next two months.

And I might even have fun there. Who knows? I might meet some decent people and become friends with them, and actually have a good time. And I'll get some extra credit for school. The only downside to this is I won't be able to see any of my friends, but hey, at least I'll get a break from here.

Finally.

It might have cost me almost my entire summer break, my dignity, and my reputation at school, but maybe now she won't have as much control over me anymore. Maybe she'll finally realize that I'm not a kid anymore.

A smirk creeps onto my face at the sweet thought of being free, like Stan.

For the next twenty minutes or so, I watch the battle on screen. My eyes start to feel heavy as lead.

I don't want to open my eyes. It's so comfy.

I finally feel my body begin to shut down, and I slip into sweet unconciousness.

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><p>A tug on my shoulder pulls me out of my slumber. I blink my eyes tiredly, and notice that the room is darker than before. I look to my right, and find myself face to face with a hooded Kenny.<p>

I jump slightly. He can look really creepy sometimes with his face covered up like that.

"What is it, dude?" I sit up and my back creaks, stretching my legs out on the floor.

He pulls his hood down. "Wanna play now? I'm done." He frowns irritatingly.

"Haha, your just pissed I keep kicking your ass, Ken." Stan laughs pridefully. I take the controller into my hands, and select my character.

"Well, good luck kicking my ass, Stan." I don't mean to sound cocky, but hey, I'm actually pretty good at this game.

When the game begins, Stan's front door suddenly slams open and nearly smacks into the wall.

A certain brunette boy steps inside.

"Hey, asswipes." He drops his bag on the floor, heading straight to the kitchen, not even bothering to look at us. I drop the controller into my lap, groaning irritatingly. Aw, fuck.

"Hey, Cartman. " Stan and Kenny mumble. I don't greet him. I just watch him as he raids through the cabinets in the kitchen, like they're his own.

I let out a sigh of frustration. My little moment of happiness, or whatever you want to call it, is now officially over.

Kenny gets up and follows Cartman into the kitchen, and they both soon return to us with handfuls of junk food. If Kenny ate like this all the time, he'd be as fat as Cartman.

Kenny lies down on the floor, his hood hanging off his face for once. "Dude, its great being able to eat an actual meal."

"You call twinkies and doughnuts to be a meal? How about some pizza?" I look over to Stan, shrugging my shoulders, and he nods his head. He goes into the kitchen to call it in.

"Woohoo! Alright, more food!" I snort at Kenny. This is probably the most food he's ever had.

Cartman then makes his way over to the couch. Oh no. He is _not_ sitting next to me.

Fatass takes the seat on the couch beside me, making the cushion sink a bit.

Pissed off, I role my eyes and scoot over a little bit. He notices, and stops eating for a moment to meet my eyes. I'm still mad at him for today in class. And the day before.

And the whole week.

I take a good look at him for the first time today. His hair looks a bit messy, as usual. I'm always just insulting him, so I don't ever get the chance to really study his face. He's wearing the same red jacket he always has with him. Cartman looks a little flustered, his amber eyes flashing irritation. His stomach looks a little smaller than before. Maybe he lost some weight.

I just realize I've been staring at him the entire time I've been thinking.

"What the fuck is your problem, Jew face?" He says in that irritating voice he uses just for me, ever since we were in preschool. I glare at him.

"Why did you sit next to me? I don't want to hear you eat, fatass." I scoot away from him again, while Cartman looks more pissed off than before, and a bit caught off gaurd.

"What the hell, Kahl? I haven't said one goddamn word to you, and you're already nagging at me? Just fuck off."

"No! You're the one who sat next to me, I'm not moving." My stubborness always gets the best of me.

"You know what, Jew? I'll sit wherever the hell I want to. You can't go around spitting orders at everyone." He looks away and sighs, turning away from me.

What? He's actually not insulting as he usually is towards me. I don't say anything back, too confused. Sitting awkardly and expecting him to lash out any second or insult me again, but it doesn't come. Alright, if he wants to be mister aloof, then fine. Cartman remains silent, staring ahead at the tv.

Kenny snickers on the floor by my feet. Has he been listening?

He smirks slightly, and turns his attention back to the television. A slight blush sweeps my face. I hadn't even noticed it had been switched over to cable, I was too busy being pissed at Cartman. After a few minutes of watching, I figure out it's some show about aliens abducting people in a small town. What's up with all the alien references tonight?

The doorbell rings and I watch Stan run across the room to the door to collect the pizza. A pimply teenager asks for the bill, and Stan shuts the door.

He sets it out on the counter, and we all move to grab a piece. I head back over to the couch, and begin to nibble on the end.

"So, guys…" Kenny smirks deviously, "Anyone got a chick to hook up with yet?"

Stan looks at him awkwardly. "Well, me and Wendy are back together again. We broke up about a week ago but she begged for me to get back together with her. But I'm not sure if we'll be…having sex anytime soon." Kenny chuckled in amusement, then raises his brows and turns to me.

I roll my eyes. "Kenny, is sex all you ever think about? I mean, haven't you already screwed half the chicks in our school?" Kenny bursts out laughing, a hand on his stomach.

"No. More like half the chicks in town. And only the hot ones." Cartman makes a sound of amusement. Kenny looks at him, smirking.

"What is it, Cartman? You jealous? I haven't seen you with _one_ girl all year." Cartman rolls his eyes, taking a bite of pizza.

"This town is full of sluts, Kenny. There's no reason to be jealous. Every girl in this town is so easy, they would fuck Mr. Garrison given the chance." Kenny decides that that is completely false, and just laughs at Cartman, like he was the dumbest person on earth. Cartman stares ahead with a far off look on his face. Yes, something about him is definitely off tonight. I turn to Kenny, and notice he is also looking at Cartman stangely.

"Well… you guys get to have fun and do whatever you please. But for _some_ of us, we have other things to do. More important things." He returns to eat his pizza, leaving us all in the dark of what the hell he was talking about.

"Okay..." Stan gives him a funny look. I decide to ignore the fatass and his weirdness. I am getting too tired to think right now.

"Stan, do you know where my sleeping bag is?" I stood up, stretching my arms.

"Its upstairs in the closet, I think." Nodding, I begin to head to his room. I hear Cartman make a smart ass comment about my stuff in his closet as I head up the stairs. I open the closet door, and decide to grab three sleeping bags. I'm sure Cartman brought his own. He wouldn't want his posessions infested with hippie germs or Jew germs.

When I get back downstairs yawning, the sleeping bags dragging on the floor, I notice I am correct. Cartman is pulling his balled-up sleeping bag out of his pack, and lays it out on the floor. I drag my body in front of the tv, which feels ten pounds heavier now that I'm tired. I flatten mine out next to Stan's. I reach up to his sofa and grab one of the blue pillows, setting it at the top of my sleeping bag.

Kenny and Stan are both huddled on the floor in front of the tv, popping in the dvd. "What movie are we watching?"

"The Avengers. One of the best movies ever made." Stan grins, and climbs into his sleeping bag. I roll my eyes at the choice of movie. I was never really that into these types of movies, but what really strikes me is when I remember dressing up as one of the Avengers for Halloween when I was ten. I cringe. Not one of my best memories.

"Hey, Stan? Your parents got any alcohol?" I look at Kenny. "What?"

"Alcohol." He raises his brow. "What, you don't drink any, ever?"

"What do you think, Kenny?" Come on, he knows I don't drink! And we're underage.

"Aah, Kyle. You need to let loose once in a while, and live it up."

I roll my eyes. "Whatever."

I don't know how he can stay up so late… or drink alcohol. Its nasty. The only time I had alcohol was when I got dared to by Craig at one of Token's parties. One sip and I was done. Anyway, I can barely keep my eyes open I'm so tired.

"No, Ken, sorry. My mom and dad used it all up last night in their room." I made a face of disgust at the innuendo, and Stan scowls at the tv screen at the thought. Kenny bursts out laughing, slapping the ground.

Unusually, Cartman remains quiet. I look over at him and raise my brow. I'd expect a remark from him of all people at something like that, but he just rolls his eyes. The opening scene of the movie begins, music playing and the credits roll.

I look to my left, curious. "Hey, Cartman?" He was staring at the tv screen, the light casting shadows on his face.

He looked strange. Like, so un-Cartman.

"What is it, Jew?" Irritatingly, he turns his head towards me and glares daggers. His eyes are looking darker than before. A shiver runs up my spine; he doesn't give me that look too often anymore.

"What's up with you?" I say gently, trying not to piss him off even more, although I have no idea why he is in the first place. I fold my hands into my lap.

He sighs, and turns his whole body towards me. He pulls his legs up to his chest and rests a hand on his knee.

"Why the hell do you care?"

That was kind of expected. We usually don't have any normal conversations, it's just bickering or insults.

"Well…I don't know. You just look kinda upset." He inches a little closer, and I instinctively put my arm up in defense.

"Relax, Jew. I'm not gonna hit you." He says amusedly, and I flush a little.

"T-That's not what I thought you were doing." I fold my arms over my chest.

"Whatever. I find it hard to believe you care." He looks me in the eyes for a moment, as if he's studying my reaction. I feel a little awkward, as he is usually never _just_ plain looking at me. Its always filled with some kind of hatred and filled with venoum. He shoves his hand through his hair, running it through and slumping his shoulders forward, resting his hands on his knees again.

"It's none of your goddamn business anyway, you nosy fucking Jew rat."

My mouth dropped open. One chance to talk to him as a friend, dare I say, and he just blows me off!

"The hell, Cartman? I was just curious! You never really seem upset unless you don't get something you want, and even then, you still go on and on about it." He looks up at me. He's pissed.

"FUCK OFF, Jew. I don't need your input, you goddamn snake in the grass!" He turns on his side quite violently, pulling the sleeping bag over his thick body, and turns the opposite direction of me. I huff, my mouth hanging open. What a fucking jerk.

I, too, lie back down into my sleeping bag, and begin staring at the tv screen, all though I have no particular interest in it at all.

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><p>My breathing is slow and relaxed.<p>

Rustling. A bang.

I crack my eyes open like a zombie, but I can't see anything very well. It is completely dark except for a small light that shines on the other side of me, and I am too tired to look and see what it is. It sounds like someone is in the kitchen, probably getting a glass of water. I close my eyes again. I want to get a good night's sleep, I need it what with all the stress I've been through lately. More rustling and suddenly, I hear someone else get out of their sleeping bag, and step right over me and into the kitchen. They stop and begin talking.

"What are you doing?" Kenny's voice. I close my eyes again, trying to sleep and not really giving a shit.

"What does it matter… I'm getting a glass of water, dipshit." The sound of a glass being set down can be heard. That's fatass' voice.

Kenny sighs. "Do you think I'm stupid, Cartman?" Silence. "I know something's wrong with you, you've been acting off all day. Why won't you tell anyone?"

Heaviness takes over my eyelids. I start to drift off to sleep once again, when I jump at the sound of Cartman yelling.

"…because you guys don't give a flying fuck, that's why!"

I widen my eyes, but don't turn my head or move. I don't want them to know I'm awake or listening, since I'm closest to the kitchen. Judging by his reaction earlier, he'd probably pound my head in the floor.

"Because we're you _friends_, you dumbass." Kenny said in a hushed voice. "If you need to tell someone, it's us. Or you can just tell me." There is a long pause. It's so quiet, it's deafening. The sound of Stan breathing deeply next to me is probably the loudest breathing I've heard in my life.

A loud sigh echoes throughout the room. "Fine." I'm trying not to move, but I am starting to feel a bit uncomfortable. I start to sweat a bit.

"Well, our fucking faggy ass teacher Mr. Garrison decided to flunk me for the year in Pre-Calc. He called up my mom, and told her I would either have to retake a few classes or fucking go to a gay ass camp. So…she fuckin signed me up for camp." Cartman's words are getting hard to hear. An ice cold dagger trails down my spine.

"She thought it would actually be a good experience for me. Can you fucking believe that?"

I can't breathe well. All the hairs on my neck suddenly stand up.

A loud moment of silence passes, and I sweat more. "So that's it? You have to go to camp for the summer. Hm." Kenny is deliberately not telling him. My stomach is doing summersaults and my heart is racing. I am drenched in sweat.

I can't stay in the same position so I roll over slightly, rustling the sleeping bag, but it doesn't help me get any more comfortable. I can feel them both looking at me from the noise.

Breathe in, out. In. Out.

He starts agian quietly, "Oh… its almost two fucking months, Kenny. I have no choice but to go, because my mom signed me up, or they will force me to repeat the whole grade. Do you know what that will do to my image? I have to go. My entire summer break has been crushed right before my eyes…" I stop listening to them. I am going to explode if I have to sit here any longer, but I don't want to get up or move. I don't want them to know I'm listening. I don't want to know that this is reality and not a dream.

I don't want to go to summer camp with Eric Cartman.

My eyes could not be any wider as I lay on the hard, cold floor, nearly hyperventilating in my sleeping bag. I pull myself deeper into my bag quietly, somewhat steadying myself.

I then force my eyes shut as I hear Kenny cross over me again and roll into his sleeping bag. Chills pass over me.

Then a louder thump, and I know both of them are back in here.

No. It's just a fucked up dream.

A terrible, screwed up nightmare.  
>I cannot lay here anymore. I can feel it coming up.<p>

I tear myself from the smoldering sleeping bag, running to the nearest bathroom. I threw the toilet seat up and empty all the shit I've eaten tonight and hopefully with it, all of my hate.

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><p>Hey, my fabulous fans<p>

Can I just say… Fatty doo-doo? HAHA. How did you guys like season 16? Can't believe it's over already, feels like it just started. Sorry it took me so long…Anyways I pretty much have everything planed out, and I will try to update quicker.

Please leave a review on what your favorite part was or if you liked it or not, whatever floats your boat. See ya next time!

-spotlock


	4. Swing On This

Don't Tread on Me

Summary: Forced into camp, Kyle is bunked with the person he least expected. The tension rises to breaking point, while rumors spread like wildfire, but Kyle has a hard time deciding whether it's for better or worse.

South Park is owned by the geniuses known as Matt and Trey. They are not human.

"If you look into your own heart, and you find nothing wrong there, what is there to worry about? What is there to fear?"

-Confucius

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The bile that mercilessly stabs at my taste buds as they sit at the base of my throat finally seem to retire from their torture. I feel a little at peace.

_Everything will be all right..._

_Please, don't worry._

Hushed voices glide around in the darkness, echoing my confusion. Everything is warm and soft as I float into nothingness.

I feel something soft sweep across my face gently, as if it were comforting me. My heart beats rapidly within it's ribcage.

_It's alright. Just calm down… _

The mysterious voices speak again. I look around for them, but there is nothing but blackness. I try to reach my hand out but it doesn't respond.

I cringe when I feel a sharp stab, interrupting the peaceful black void, and I feel myself twitch with fear and pain. The ground starts to rock back and forth, and the warmth is ripped away from me. My heart is slowly beating back to normal, and I feel a strange sensation sweep throughout my disoriented body.

"_Please, wake up."_

I feel cold and a bit sweaty, trying to respond to the mysterious voice. I'm okay. I'm fine. Why are you so worried?

And then, like I smacked a brick wall, my eyes snap open. My vision is blurry and the world is swaying.

"Kyle!" I am pulled into someone's arms, giving me a bone crushing hug. I yelp out in surprise, and look over my shoulder to recognize raven black hair.

"S-Stan?" He steps back. Once the dizziness departs, I sit up a bit. I am shocked to see the scene before me.

First of all, Stan, his eyes red and puffy as if someone had died and he started balling his eyes out. I see a woman dressed in scrubs standing at my feet, and Kenny right behind Stan, gawking at me like I had grown three heads.

I look to my feet and notice I'm covered in white bed sheets. The walls are completely white, and a steady beeping nags in my ear.

Too confused to say anything, I just look back and forth at everyone dumbly, searching franticly for answers. How did I end up in a hospital?!

"Are you okay now, son?" The older woman dressed in scrubs says to me, a look of bother on her face. I nod my head, trying to sit up more. Okay from what? What the hell happened… My brain seems to throb within my skull, and I cringe, massaging my temples.

"What happened?" I look up into Stan's glassy eyes. I blush a little as the stares fail to dissipate.

"You… went into a diabetic coma." He says slowly, his face full of worry. His fingers grasp his blue hat, petting it anxiously. I must have really scared him. My mouth opens and closes as I look from Kenny to Stan,"Wha…." I feel so confused, what do I say? I'm aware of how dumb I must look, so I shut my jaw and lay back down.  
>"You'll be okay now." The woman smiles and she leaves the room.<p>

No. Way. How can I be so stupid? Diabetic coma? My god... how did this happen?

Kenny takes a spot next to my bed. "How you feelin, champ?" Smirking, he pats me on the shoulder. His blue eyes raid mine.

"F-Fine, I guess…" But, I'm so confused. Thia hasn't happened since I was around eight years old. What was that I felt and heard earlier? Was it the nurse talking to me? I need answers.

I look into Kenny's eyes, "How… did I get here?" Kenny's smirk is wiped off his face, and replaced with a grimace. He brushes the hair from his eyes with his fingers."Well… to tell you everything, we were all lying down, sleeping. Then I heard you dash out of the room, like you had just saw a ghost. I just figured you had diarrhea…" He chuckles at that, and I glare at him. He looks at me seriously, "so I left you alone, and told Stan to do the same." It's a little embarrassing Stan would be that protective of me, but I just keep quiet and nod my head. I guess Cartman didn't really give a shit or was sleeping.

"But then after about ten minutes, Stan finally went to check on you in the bathroom. He said you were lying on the floor, unconscious. And you had thrown up. Then I ran to check on you, we called ems and an ambulance came. Now... here we are." I nod my head, looking down at my wrist with a UV tube poked through it. Now that I think about it, I don't remember taking any insulin for my diabetes the past couple days. No wonder I am here.

But I _do_ remember running to the bathroom, and throwing up after I had found out that Cartman was… I don't want to even think about it. Don't need to make matters worse.

I just want to get my mind settled. "So, you called for an ambulance, Kenny?" I look up at him, and suddenly Kenny looks kind of uncomfortable. He looks to the floor and starts shuffling his feet.

"Well… not really." Confused, I wait for him to continue. He stares at me blankly, obviously not wanting to give an answer.

I grow impatient, "Well, Ken?"

"Cartman called the police." Stan suddenly barks out. My eyes grow wide.

"Really? Well, but you told him to, right Kenny?" He shakes his head, looking dead serious.

"Nope. Actually, if you ask me, he looked kinda panicked. For Eric Cartman, at least. He got to the phone before I could even go to check on you."

My mouth drops open. No freaking way. No way would he do that for me. This is him we are talking about, right? "I'm sorry. But did you just say that Cartman actually looked…concerned for me? The big-nosed, money grubbing Jew he despises?" Both of them nod simultaneously, looking just as confused as I was.

"Yeah, dude… it was pretty weird." Stan finally takes a seat right next to my bed, and lets out a deep breath. He looks to the floor as if he is thinking.

Kenny smirks, "At least, that's what I believe. He hid it well, though, acting like it was no big deal. But there was something on his face I haven't seen in a long time. Some sort of concern."

What does he mean in a long time? Cartman never is and never was concerned for the scrawny, faggy Jew. Period.

Stan chuckles nervously. "Probably the weirdest thing Cartman's done. I mean for you. He came into the bathroom after he called an ambulance for you and told me to get out of there. I was afraid he was going to try and hurt you while you were passed out or something. You know how fatass is. I refused, but he pushed passed me, grabbed your face and he started yelling things at you like "stupid Jew" this, "stupid Jew" that to wake you up. Like he was kind of concerned. But I think he was mad and wanted to get back to sleep, honestly." Stan stops talking and looks to the floor, looking like he was trying to solve a really complicated math problem. I'm confused myself. What the hell is up with him doing that? He's probably right, he wasn't really concerned. He just wanted everyone to shutup so he could go back to sleep. Wrapping my arms around myself, I shut my eyes, my headache seeming to get worse. Guh.

Wait... if Cartman called for an ambulance, then does that mean he followed along with Stan and Kenny?

I open my eyes back up after a few minutes, "Is he even here?" I ask Stan, and he looks back up, his eyes going soft.

"Not sure. I think he went to the cafeteria or something." He looks at Kenny, "Right, Kenny?" I look to Kenny, impatiently awaiting his answer.

"I don't think so. I'm pretty sure he went home right after you got here." Hm, it figures. He can't stand the thought of being nice to anybody. I let out a huge breath, feeling so stressed and confused. I close my eyes, running the scene through my head at least a dozen times. I can't conclude, why would he do that? He doesn't care about me.

"Hey," Kenny chuckles, amusement dancing in his eyes,"you remember that time when you almost got killed by Manbearpig? And Cartman saved you?"

Ugh, he just had to bring that up! I give him a look, rolling my eyes. "Kenny… it's obvious he did that because he's a manipulative bastard, he was using me!. He only SAVED me so I would suck his balls after I lost that stupid bet about a leprechaun." I clench my fists together, getting pissed off at the treterous memory of the whole Imaginationland fiasco he pulled. I still can't believe he went across the country for me. "And I bet he was acting concerned about me tonight, because he wants to get something out of this. And that's it! There is nothing else to it."

Stan nods his head, turning to Kenny. "Yeah. That's Cartman for you."

"You should be thanking him, Kyle. In a way, he saved you."

"Not, really, Kenny. You would have called for an ambulance if he didn't."

"Well, yeah, but, still. It would have been later on. You could have been in worse condition by then." I just shake my head. Sure, it was nice of Cartman. I never would have guessed he would go out of his way to do that. But there is more to it, and I know that for sure. I give him a doubtful look, but he doesn't approve.

Kenny gets in my face, clasping his hands together and mocking me.

"Eric Cartman, your my hero!" He grins, batting his lashes.

My face reddens a bit, and I reach out to smack him, but he lashes back before I have the chance.

"Shut the fuck up, Kenny. He's not a hero!" Stan snickers beside me. I give him a warning look, and he guiltily looks to the floor.

Kenny shakes his head, like he knows everything. Hm, bastard.

I sigh, turning my head the other way. I can't believe he even touched me…gross. I'm going to have one heck of a shower when I get out of here. I just need to rest.

"I'm so sorry anyway, you guys. That I scared you with all of this. I haven't really been taking good care of myself, I guess. I've been so caught up in school. This diabetes never was easy for me."

They both nod at the same time, reassuring me it's fine and really no problem. I wonder if they really believe me though. But at the end of the day, I really am lucky to have friends like these.

I smile at them, and wander my gaze to the local News on the tv screen that's mounted to the wall.

Shit! It's really late.

Now that I think about it… when can I leave? Has my mom and dad even been contacted?

Oh my god. My mom.

She is going to have my head mounted to the fireplace.

First of all, I haven't told her about me going over to Stan's house and spending the night. She doesn't have a clue where the hell I'm at. Certainly by now, she's called just about everyone in town and sent out a search party looking for me.

Second, I didn't explain I will be going off to some unknown camp in a few days, because I'm a horrible student and failed a few classes. And lastly, I am in the hospital after I went into a diabetic coma because I ate poorly and didn't take my insulin for the past three or four days. Hell, I don't know how long it's been.

Moses, could this day get ANY worse? Just about EVERYTHING today has gone wrong.

Well, Kyle, this is it. Kiss your freedom goodbye, because it's not coming back for a long, long time.

I gulp, not wanting to ask. "Stan?" He turns his head. "Has my mom been contacted?" I am literally shaking as I say this. I think he notices, because he hesitates to answer.

Please say no. Oh, please say no...

"No. She hasn't." I lay back into the white stained sheets and breathe a sigh of relief. Thank god. I had heard that when a minor is taken to the hospital, their parents are contacted. That means it's only a matter of time until they call my mom. I just want to get out of here, though. I can't just sit in this little room forever, I have too much to do.

"Well, should I do it for you? It will save you some trouble." He looks a little unsure of himself, but I run this through my head before giving him a nod.

"Alright," I swallow hard and compose myself. I give a shaky sigh. That's actually a great idea. I can tell the nurse that my parents are coming. Oh boy, am I going to get my ass chewed. After all, my mother takes things way out of proportion. I mean, she did start a war between America and Canada years ago because of a television show.

But it has to be done, one way or another.

I don't even know what time it is right now. I think it's around midnight, judging by the tired looks on Stan and Kenny's faces and the blacked out houses outside. My mom is probably sitting by the phone right now, at this very moment, worried sick about me.

Stan sat up in his chair a little and pulled his cell phone from his front pocket, dialing my home phone number. I think he's really nervous, judging by the several beads of sweat he wipes off his forehead. I don't blame him. My mom can be quite scary.

It only rings about twice before someone on the other line picks up.

"Mrs. Broflovski? Um yes, it's Stan Marsh. I'm calling to tell you that Kyle is safe with me, but he's currently in the hospital-"Stan pulls his cell from his ear when I hear my mom give a screech on the other end. "He's-he's fine! Yes... well, um. You see, what happened was-"

Before he can say any more, my nerves get the best of me. My heart feels like it's going to literally explode from my rib cage. I jump out of my bed sheets, knocking several things to the floor, race over to Stan like a crazed poufy-haired animal, nearly tripping over myself, and snatch the cell phone from his fingers.

"Mom! Mom… it's me." Stan gives me a look, assuming I've gone crazy, his hand still lingering in the air.

"KYLE BROFLOVSKI!" I flinch at her tone of voice, and the fact that she thinks she's talking into a megaphone.

"Oh, my baby! What happened to you?! Where have you gone off to all day, Ive called all the neighbors and nobody knew where you were! Why are you in the hospital? Young man, you are in serious trouble! You're setting a terrible example for your younger brother right now, Kyle! We are coming over there right now, mister, and taking you straight home! Just wait until I tell your father!" My eyes grow wide with worry. I need to get it all out, right now. I can't hide anything any longer.

"NO WAIT! Mom! I need to tell you something!" The other end on the phone grows quiet, so I'm assuming she's decided to stop her ranting and let me get in my explanation. I take a deep breath…here it goes.

"Mom. I know... I didn't tell you, and should have, but I went over to Stan's house tonight to spend the night. I was feeling really upset about school today, because… I failed English class, and a few others. I know, I'm a horrible student, and a failure as a son. I have to go to summer camp in a few days in order to pass." I swallow hard, my throat caked in cotton, but determination wills me to speak. A little voice in the back of my head tells me to shut the hell up, but for some reason I ignore it.

She says nothing, so I continue. "I am really sorry, Ma. While I was at Stan's house, I wasn't careful with my food choices, and ate things I know I shouldn't have. My blood sugar levels were messed up, and…that's how I ended up here. I can understand if you're infuriated with me. Even I would be. I've been a terrible, terrible example for Ike, and an awful student. I know you must hate me, actually. But see, mom. I know that I messed up. I've learned from my mistakes. What I have done is entirely unacceptable, I understand, and I deserve to be crowned the worst son in the history of mankind. And I promise mom, I will never, ever do it again, really. I'm going to do my best when I go off to camp to get an A and raise all of the rest of my grades. And I am going to do my very best next year, even if it means staying up until early morning to get all my projects and homework done. I just want you to know that, mom, I am proud to be your son, and I love you." That was SURELY plenty enough ass kissing and pleading. She can't be as infuriated with me now. I even ended in my clearest, most professional voice I could muster, because she seems to respect me more when I speak that way to her.

My hand is trembling so bad I think I might drop the phone. But that's it, it's over and I told her everything. The few heavy burdens on my shoulders have been lifted, at least for now.

Stan's jaw is hanging open, eyeing me like a madman. I'm still slightly hunched over him from when I stole his phone. He must be thinking I really have gone insane talking to my mother like that. But no, I know I've made the right choice. I did the right thing telling my mom all that I've done.

Yeah. Right?

My confidence getting a slight boost, I stand my ground and don't let Stan's 'your fucking insane' look deflate me. Finally, she speaks.

"We will be there in twenty minutes." The other line goes dead.

An ice cold chill runs up my spine and licks at my neck from those seven words. She didn't sound angry. But she didn't sound really worried either. She didn't even sound rushed to leave the house. It was one of the most emotionally absent, monotone voices I think I've ever heard from my mother. And that's what really scares the shit out of me.

I feel something wet slipping down my arm. I must have somehow got water on me, and as I look down at my hand to wipe it off, I notice blood dripping onto the floor. I gasp and grab my wrist, trying to cover it with my fingers. I back away from the small drops on the floor. In my hurried struggle to take the phone from Stan, I had ripped the UV straight out of my arm. It starts to sting as I watch with my eyes widened.

"Shit," I mutter, gritting my teeth. I hate blood.

My arm is suddenly taken into somebody's hand, and a bandage is wrapped around my wrist. I look up expecting to see Stan or Kenny, and nearly gasp in surprise to see a younger woman in scrubs, her face looking irritated. I feel myself blush and cooperate with her. She leads me over to the bed, helping me back into the stained, disgusting sheets.

Giving me one last look that tells me she's irritated, she says, "Your parents have been contacted." Yeah, tell me something I don't know, lady. "You will be released in a little bit." With that, she walks out.

Kenny's head trails her as she walks out, staring at her ass.

"Kenny!" I can't believe he would be checking out bitchy nurses, and at a time like this! Is that all he thinks about!?

He chuckles tiredly, running his finger through his locks. "Sorry, Kyle." He stares at me with an emotionless, drained look, and I begin to think I really have lost my mind. "Jesus, I can't believe you did that. Are you hoping for a death sentence?" He shakes his head, his blonde hair swaying a bit.

I shrug my shoulders and raise my brow. "Well, it needed to be done, Kenny." I look to my feet. Yeah, I know it was a stupid, stupid thing telling my mom all that. But it was in the spur of the moment. I couldn't just sit there and let Stan try to explain everything. I mean, what if my mom came storming here into my hospital room, yelling at everybody, demanding what happened to her son? It would make me feel even more horrible and really embarrassed. I would have to explain everything to her, face to face, and see every single reaction and accept all of her dirty looks. It's actually a lot better that Stan called her. It made it a hell of a lot easier to say.

"Dude…" I look to my right to see Stan still sitting there, his mouth still hanging open. I guess I had stunned him silent.

"Shut up, Stan." And with that, I lay back into the pillow, trying to relax my body. Nobody says a word and the room is quiet for the next ten minutes, and I can feel myself getting more anxious with every moment. My unwanted anticipation for her arrival creates an uncomfortable atmosphere, and I stare out the darkened window beside me, watching the tiny cars drive by. I can smell the sticky sweat underneath my arms. Just knowing that my mother is driving here, after what I said, is enough to have me wishing there was a noose hanging from the ceiling, so I could just end this already.

Oh Moses, help me.

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><p>

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It was four AM according to the little red blinking letters on my alarm clock. I flip myself over for the millionth time in bed tonight. Sleep seems to be my enemy now.

Stress bubbles up in my throat and an anxious pit of acid licks at my stomach. My left eye twitches involuntarily and I smack it with irritation.

"Ah, fuck." I sit up, covering my eye which throbs beneath my fingers. I grunt out silently and stare at the bandage on my wrist, reminding me of the reoccurring nightmare that happened a few hours ago. The worst part is, it was indeed reality. Not a dream.

My plan to tell my mother everything in the hospital that I had wronged in the past 24 hours, or should I say, the past year, completely backfired. At the time, I had seen it as the best option as it would save me a lot of explaining and public humiliation. Wrong, oh how wrong I was. The memory is eating away inside at my conscious, who had earlier told me all of what I should have done.

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><p><em>Me, my mother and father wave goodbye to Stan and Kenny as they leave my hospital room. The last two things that could likely save me from this madness, gone. <em>

_My mother looks to me, an expression I've rarely seen on her face. "Follow me, Kyle."_

_She checked me out and the ladies behind the desk wished me well, handing me some kind of stuffed animal that I'm way too old for. The walk out of the hospital felt more like a walk of shame. Like in the olden days, when they had people trek through the streets to the noose that snaps necks, while everyone laughed and threw things at them purely for humiliation. Even though I knew nobody was aware what I was going through, the stares of people in waiting rooms and hallways as I slumped my feet to the exit made me feel like burying myself. And home was my last destination. The noose. _

_As soon as I stepped through my front door my mother decided to start off with yelling at me because I guess she thought that would solve everything. And it really didn't help my current state of mind, which was quickly falling apart. _

_She forced me to lead her to my room and once again reminded me of the horrible son I am and told me my whole career is over. When I didn't even start it yet. _

_She walked over to my nightstand and reached behind, unplugging my television. _

"_Gerald! Come help me!" She struggled to lift my bulky tv I got for my 13th birthday off my nightstand. My dad came into my room, looking confused, but knowing I was getting punished in some unnecessary way. _

_So I watched as my tv went through my door for the last time. She then went to my desk, unplugging my computer and mouse with all it's components in a hurried rampage. _

_My dad looked a little guilty as he said nothing and scooped the computer off my desk. Then went the keyboard and various computer games I haven't touched in ten years. _

_A strange, saddened rage seemed to bubble inside me as I watched my bedroom get emptied, but I was too afraid to act on my impulses. Tears brimmed in my eyes and stung a little, begging to be let free. I sat on my bed, my nails digging into my skin while my fists shook. I was unable to keep them inside any longer. _

_A tear ran down my cheek, but I wiped it before anyone could see anything. It's a good thing Ike is at his friend's house tonight, I don't want him to see any of this._

_My parents remained silent as they pulled and carried the things I like and use the most from my bedroom. _

_My mom would occasionally bring up tutoring and extra volunteer work for next year. And I'm not to visit my friends on weekdays. Insulin is first priority in the morning. Homework is to be done every night, no slacking, no free time, you'll be punished for everything you do wrong, blah blah blah. _

_After several hours of my mother hammering me on the head with commands, invectives and pointless rules, I am feeling at my absolute lowest and puniest in my own home that I can remember in a long time. My bedroom looks abandoned and lifeless. I couldn't feel more regret at the choices I've made. _

"_Goodnight, Bubbe." My mother wraps her arms around me, and I feel nothing but chills as she squeezes me. I stare forward, the bags under my eyes becoming permanent indentations. She lets go and turns away, leaving what used to be my bedroom. My father looks at me and smiles a fake smile, patting me on the shoulder. "Kyle…" He hesitates for a moment, and then pulls his hand away. "I'm sorry…Good night." He knows I've received enough punishment today._

_Not bothering to brush my teeth or change into whatever pajamas I have left, I lay down on my bed with no sheets. Something pushes into my backside, and I reach into my back pocket and pull it out. My mother had forgotten to take one thing. My cell phone was the only device left that held together my fragile sanity._

_I close my eyes and beg for my body to go at rest._

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Staring at the ceiling, I try to calm my mind by imagining that Stan or Kenny were here. Usually I would listen to music before I sleep, but I don't have it anymore.

I kind of wish something worse had happened to me so I could be in the hospital for a longer time. If only the ambulance didn't come for me. Ugh, damn that fatass. He ruins everything for me.

Why did he help me out anyways? There must be something he's wanting from me. Lately, he's been really pushing my buttons with the insults. Maybe he thinks I will treat him nicer, then gain my trust and knock me down when I'm least expecting it. Maybe he thinks I'll give him money. Whatever it is, he now thinks I owe him.

But I didn't ask for his help. He just came out of nowhere and helped me. So there is no way I am indebted anything. No way I owe Eric fucking Cartman.

Stupid manipulative bastard. He's going to get it. I am NOT letting him take advantage of me this time. I am going to stand up for myself. He's not getting his way this time. He's just a spoiled brat who thinks he can get anything he wants as long as he does one nice thing.

"Fucking fatass." I spit angrily to nothing. That's it. I have to show him who's boss.

I reach my arm out blindly to the floor, and search until I grab hold and lift my phone up. Going to my contacts list, I search for his name. I tap on the bar when I find 'Eric Cartman.'

I get a sense of pride as I type my message. That's it, I'm not playing his little mind game of cat and mouse this time.

**-Just because you helped me tonight doesn't mean you can get what you want. You aren't going to use me this time. **

Looking over the message for a few seconds with satisfaction, I tap the send button. I stare at my phone for a few seconds longer, and then carelessly throw it over the side of my bed with a soft _thud _onto the carpet.

Yawning, I begin to feel tired for the first time in about four hours. Even though my feet are freezing from lack of warmth, my eyelids begin to feel like they are filled with lead and droop.

Faint visions dance across the room as I go from the transition of falling asleep to dreaming.

A small noise pulls me out of my slumber. It becomes louder and I open my eyes, the room pitch black. My phone is vibrating on the floor.

Like a zombie, I reach down and pick up my phone, then swipe it to see the message.

**From: Eric Cartman**

**-Wat r u talking abt stpd joo**

"Ugggh." He thinks he can trick me? I know he knows that I know his little plan. He thinks he is so clever, huh?

I tap reply and begin to type my message.

**From: Kyle Broflovski**

**-Don't play stupid with me Cartman. I'm done with your games. I'm not giving you anything because of what you did. **

I press send and set the phone beside me. In less than a minute my phone begins to vibrate again.

I swipe and tap on the message.

**From: Eric Cartman**

**-Ur fuckn insane. **

…What? That's all he has to say!?

I cry out in frustration, squeezing the phone and kicking my footboard, wishing it was his stupid, ego inflated, fat head.

"No, Kyle. Don't let him get to you." I whispered, trying to calm down my racing heart. I tap reply and hurriedly typed my message, getting more pissed off by the second.

**From: Kyle Broflovski**

**-Listen asshole! I am so done with you! I am not dealing with you this summer, and I am not dealing with you next school year! Just leave me alone, fatass.**

I'm clenching my fist with my other hand as I hit send.

I watch for his message impatiently to come through with the phone about two inches from my face.

As soon as his message comes, I tap it so hard I knock the phone out of my hand. I reach to pick it up and read it.

**From: Eric Cartman**

**-Watevr. Get the sand out of ur vgina, joo, nd go 2 bed.**

This time, I have to literally bite down on my palm to keep from yelling out in frustration. I wish I had my bedsheets so I could rip them in two right now.

He has no idea what I have been through the past day, and he's talking to me like that?! Fuck him!

I hit respond. Two can play at this game.

**From: Kyle Broflovski**

**FATASS**

I hit send and smirk with satisfaction. That will surely piss him off.

His message comes through and I tap on it.

**From: Eric Cartman**

**-STOOPID KIKE. Shut UP nd leave me alone.**

A ball seems to form in my throat after I read that, but I brush it off.

How dare he calls me that.

**From: Kyle Broflovski**

**-FUCKING LARD ASS!**

I send the message, my breathing rate increasing. The phone vibrates again.

**From: Eric Cartman **

**-UGLY ASS GREEDY FAGGT**

I hit reply.

**From: Kyle Broflovki**

**You're such a fucking asshole! Why can't you listen to me? I want nothing to do with you anymore, got it?!**

I don't even know how long I've been texting him for. My eyes are stinging a little.

My phone vibrates against my chest and I pick it up.

**From: Eric Cartman**

**-HAHA! U didnt deny u wer gay! R u comin out to me, kahl? ;)**

My mouth hangs open as I read this. How can he be so cruel to me, after all that hero bullshit earlier? I guess I shouldn't be surprised. All I wanted to do was tell him he wasn't going to trick me into doing something for him this time, and it somehow escalated to this? I might have actually thanked him.

**From: Kyle Broflovski**

**-Fuck yu cartman**

I typed and sent it so fast I didn't even check it over for errors. My teeth are grinding together so hard. God, I am going to kill that son of a bitch! On sudden impulse, I flip over and scream into my pillow, clawing at the fabric.

I turn back over, not really feeling any better. I stare at the bare walls and floors, and close my eyes. I really, really wish I were somebody else right now. Stan, Kenny, hell even Butters. Anybody. I take a look at the curtains hanging in front of my window. The faintest pink and blue light spread across the walls from the early morning sunrise. My head and wrist hurts, and my eyes are probably bloodshot. I turn my head slightly to read my alarm clock.

It's 5:58 in the morning.

I turn on my side and wrap my arms around myself. Suddenly, after about five minutes, my phone starts to vibrate, eminating a small light.

Hesitantly, I pick up my phone. The message blinks a few times before I tap it.

**From: Eric Cartman**

**I won :)**

I stood up from my bed, reach my arm back and throw the phone at the wall hard, the cover and battery flying in the air.

Fuck you, Eric Cartman.

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Hey, pssst!

Each of these chapters has a song to it. Go to my profile for a playlist!

Sorry it took a little while to update. Senior year is coming up and I'm feeling pretty stressed.

Anyway, please leave a review telling me your thoughts. I'm open to critisicm as long as you don't use hateful words.

Thanks for reading!

spotlock


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